‘The Wire‘ star Clarke Peters has filmed a guest appearance for BBC’s ‘Holby City’. According to Digital Spy, Peters, who stars as Detective Lester Freamon in ‘The Wire’, will play Donna Jackson’s (Jaye Jacobs) father Derek Newman for a month on the show.

Speaking about the role, Peters said: “The ‘Holby’ experience was an eye opener for me as to how professional everyone working in that factory of entertainment must be.”

“My directors, particularly Rob Evans, created an environment that was comfortable and supportive for any guest artist to thrive in.” ‘Holby City’s series producer Diana Kyle commented: “Clarke has an amazing body of work from West End theatre to ‘The Wire‘ and we were delighted when he agreed to come and join the team at ‘Holby’.”

Peters’ first episode of ‘Holby City’ is reportedly set to air in July.

The stars of critically acclaimed HBO series The Wire are beefing up the cast of an upcoming drama called Treme, with the likes of Wendell Pierce and Clarke Peters joining the latter’s roster.  Not a few days back, it was reported that CSI: Miami’s favorite coroner Khandi Alexander will also be heading to New Orleans.

This comes as no surprise, however, as the producer of The Wire David Simon created Treme, a post-Katrina drama that looks at the iconic New Orleans neighborhood that has produced a lot of famed musicians.

Pierce, a New Orleans-native himself, will be the trombone-playing Antoine Batiste, the struggling musician trying to score gigs to support his girlfriend and their newborn baby.  Peters, meanwhile, will play Albert Lambreaux, “a big chief of the White Feather Nation.”  Alexander will reportedly take on the role of Batiste’s ex-wife.  Both Peters and Alexander have worked with Simon on Emmy-winning miniseries The Corner.

With such heavyweights on its helm, Treme is being groomed to be HBO’s next hit.  Other than the area’s music scene, it will also delve into political corruption, the public housing controversy, the crippled criminal-justice system, clashes between police and Mardi Gras Indians, and the struggle to regain the tourism industry after Katrina.

“It’s basically a post-Katrina history of the city.  It will be rooted in events that everybody knows,” says The Wire and Treme creator.  “What it’s not going to be is a happy stroll through David Simon’s record collection. It should not be a tourism slide show.  If we do it right, it [will be] about why New Orleans matters.”

No premiere date has been set for Treme.

For its part, the Baltimore-set urban police drama The Wire recently earned the nods of the Television Critics Association with four nominations, including Program of the Year, Achievement in Drama, Individual Achievement in Drama for Simon, and the Heritage Award for its social impact.

All good things must come to an end; at least The Wire, Dave Simon’s brilliant portrait of Baltimore through all its social strata, wrapped up before it grew bloated like The Sopranos. The fifth season (only 10 episodes) brings the fourth estate into the mix of overachieving street-corner drug dealers, overworked cops, underfunded teachers and overwhelmingly corrupt politicians. The beleaguered editors and reporters at the Baltimore Sun (where Simon worked the crime beat), stripped bare by layoffs and facing competition from the Internet, are urged “to do more with less” by their weaselly managing editor (David Costabile). Even worse is the pompous executive editor (Sam Freed), with his Pulitzer lust and academic credentials. The moral center of the newsroom, city editor Gus Haynes (a deeply lived-in performance by Clark Johnson), a Menckenite dinosaur, reluctantly negotiates the cutbacks while trying to reign in Scott (Tom McCarthy), a reporter with a touch of the fabulist in him—his quotes are too good, his sources never want to be named. The inside-baseball newspaper story dovetails with the ongoing saga of Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West) and his mates in the police department. Throwing caution and common sense to the wind, McNulty fabricates a crime wave by a serial killer preying on the homeless in order to get the resources Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters) needs to solve the murders in the vacant houses from Season 4. Two bullshitters square off when McNulty and Scott both start spinning their stories into headline-grabbing hysteria that challenges the electoral dreams of slick liberal Mayor Tommy Carcetti (a spot-on impersonation of Gavin Newsom by Aidan Gillen—or is it the other way around?). Meanwhile, Marlo Stanfield (Jamie Hector) makes his move on Prop Joe (Robert F. Chew) and the Baltimore drug trade, and Omar (the amazing Michael K. Williams) returns from exile with a grudge. The show manages to do justice to scores of memorable characters, building on the fertile ground of previous seasons. The Wire has cemented so many intricate emotional foundations that some of the actors seem to merge with their characters. It is startling to see Michael (Tristan Wilds), Doquan (Jermaine Crawford) and Namon (Julito McCullum), the kids from last season, a couple of years older and a few inches taller. My reservations are minimal: the newspaper subplot isn’t all that well integrated with the rest of the narrative; McNulty’s scheming strains credibility (there’s no way they can make their doctored case stand up in court); and Marlo seems too much like a shark in comparison with Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell, whose lives of crime had a context and a purpose—Marlo’s deadly ambition has left him devoid of complexity; he doesn’t even enjoy the money and status he achieves. But these are minor cavils when stacked up against a brilliant scene in which a Quantico FBI profiler perfectly nails McNulty’s anti-authoritarian tendencies; or the depth of professionalism that drives Bunk (Wendell Pierce) and Kima (Sonja Sohn) to acts of courageous conscience. To say that Season 5 of The Wire is the weakest one is still high praise, because The Wire is better than 99 percent of anything that has ever been on TV. Comes with commentary tracks and a couple of promo-style extras—it is amusing to hear Dominic West talking in his real English accent.

Download The Wire Episodes

Once again, we’re going to talk about season one of “The Wire” in two different versions: one safe for people who are brand-new to the show (or who haven’t watched all the way through to the end), one where we can talk about anything from first episode to last. This is the former; scroll up for the veterans edition if you want to discuss things that are still to come, both this season and in later seasons.

Spoilers for episode four, “Old Cases” — and a word of warning that due to the episode’s nature, this post will feature extensive discussion (and, on occasion, reproduction) of a certain four-letter word — coming up just as soon as I try to prove a negative…

F–k.

F–k, f–k, f–k, f–k.

The f–k?

F–k it. Motherf–k!

In the seemingly neverending debate about “The Wire” vs. “Deadwood” (in which I took part at one point), one of the arguments in favor of “Deadwood” is the idea that David Milch’s use of language is so beautiful and so exact that it elevates his show to a level that “The Wire” (or “The Sopranos,” or any other great TV drama) can’t quite reach. I would certainly never speak ill of the amazing “Deadwood” dialogue, but I think it’s only fair to point out that “The Wire” had its own moments of gorgeous, precise employment of nouns, verbs, adverbs and adjectives. And nowhere is that more obvious than in the justly-celebrated scene where McNulty and Bunk go over the Diedre Kresson crime scene, uttering nothing but variations on the F-word.

It’s a goddamn symphony of profanity, is what that scene is, at once shockingly funny (as you realize just how many times the F-word is being uttered, to the exclusion of all else) and unexpectedly brilliant (as you realize that the two cops are quickly getting to the bottom of what happened here). It’s almost a parody of the idea of doing a cop show on HBO, and yet it conveys so much about how smart Jimmy and The Bunk are — and how well they work together — that they can figure out so much about Kresson’s murder and communicate it to each other using only that word.

What, of course, sets it up so beautifully is the earlier scene where D’Angelo, irritated with Bodie’s bravado about escaping from juvie, walks Bodie, Wallace and Poot through every detail of the crime. That scene serves other purposes — notably in continuing the tension between D’Angelo, who questions the way they do business, and Bodie, who blindly follows the rules of The Game — but its primary function is to act as a road map so that we don’t need any kind of expository dialogue — or any dialogue of the non-F-word variety — when Bunk and McNulty go into that apartment. We know exactly how this murder went down, and so we can just appreciate watching these true professionals at work.

(Getting back to the notion of “The Wire” as a show that teaches you how to watch it, by later seasons Simon won’t even need to resort to that level of hand-holding. There’s a sequence in season four where we watch a Homicide cop silently work through a murder scene and slowly put all the pieces together, and by that point, a preamble isn’t even necessary. The show’s visual language, and our own understanding of how a good detective studies a scene, will be all we need to fill in what’s left unsaid.)

But if the legendary “f–k” scene teaches us what a natural police McNulty is, the bulk of “Old Cases” is devoted to illustrating the ways in which his personality flaws — his addiction to himself, as Sgt. Jay Landsman puts it — constantly get in the way of people noticing just how good he is.

Sure, his knowledge of Baltimore street crime is so encyclopedic that he can cite No-Heart Anthony’s home address without prompting, and he and Bunk are like magicians when they work together, but McNulty is constantly getting in his own way. We already know that he cheated (with Ronnie Pearlman) on his soon-to-be-ex-wife Elena, which no doubt explains her hostile demeanor towards him, and we’ve seen countless examples in just these four episodes about how Jimmy’s need to prove himself the smartest guy in the room causes him to violate protocol, common sense and even (in the case of refusing to take a sick day for the raid last week) basic decency.

Jimmy may not always be the smartest guy in the room, but he’s self-aware enough to recognize this. You can see he’s already starting to regret his tight bond with Judge Phelan, who’s just digging Jimmy’s grave by pushing Burrell to continue the Barksdale detail. (Landsman charming Rawls into giving Jimmy two weeks to wrap up the detail and come home clean won’t do him much good if they’re going to start writing wiretap affidavits, will it?) And when Lester Freamon — who, in the story of how he wound up in the pawn shop unit for 13 years (and four months), proves that our cuddly housecat is really just an older, possibly smarter, but just as stubborn version of McNulty — warns him about not letting the bosses know where he doesn’t want to be transferred, you can see Jimmy immediately flashing on that conversation from “The Target” where he told Landsman that he’d never want to ride a boat for the marine unit.

When Bubbs, the wisest fool in all of Baltimore, gets a glimpse of the clean and bright neighborhood where Jimmy’s kids play soccer, only to return to another burnt-out street in West Baltimore, he notes that there’s a “thin line ‘tween heaven and here.” This is one of the core statements of “The Wire” (and the inspiration for the title of an outstanding “Wire” site), as the show is about all the people who fall over to the wrong side of that line, and how impossible it is to get back across. For the most part, the line represents the barrier between ordinary citizens like Elena or even the late Ms. Kresson and players and hustlers like D’Angelo and Bubbs, but the Baltimore PD has its own versions of both Heaven (elite units like Homicide) and Here (do-nothing squads like the pawn shop unit). Lester was already tossed over that line for valuing pride over common sense (as Jimmy notes, he could have easily made his case without the fence) and only made his way back by a fluke and some determination (he kept coming to work long enough that anyone who remembered his punishment were gone when the call for humps arose), and Jimmy can see that he’s in very real danger of being cast out of heaven if this goes much further.

And yet, as we continue to see here, the Barksdale crew is both a worthy and challenging target, a tough, disciplined bunch who can’t be got by ordinary methods — see Marvin taking a mandatory five years in prison versus risking the wrath of Avon — and who have more than one civilian body on their side of the ledger. If Jimmy’s going to jeopardize his career in order to go after a bad guy, Avon seems as good as any.

Herc and Carver once again don’t get it. Even if Bodie hadn’t escaped from Boys Village (Here) and headed back to the Pit (for him, Heaven) through the simple luck of being left unattended in his civilian clothes with a mop bucket nearby, we know there’s no way that Carver’s proposed scare tactics would have put a dent in his gangster armor. As Herc learns from Bodie’s grandmother — a bit of information I confess I had forgotten all these years later, and one which makes me look at young master Broadus very differently now — Bodie was orphaned at age 4, and had spent the years leading up to his mother’s death being dragged around the fringes of The Game by her. (In that way, he’s no different from the baby that Omar coos over before hooking up the mother with some dope. That kid will be very lucky to grow up to be anything other than another Bodie.) Bodie may be a knucklehead himself, the Herc or Carver to D’Angelo’s Kima, but he grew up hard and remains hard, and if those two morons had shown up at Boys Village before he walked away, he would have either stared them down or simply laughed in their cop faces.

No, traditional methods have no real way of working with Avon’s crew, which is why Jimmy and Kima and now Lester are going to have to employ every bit of creativity at their disposal in order to get them. And if it takes more than two weeks — as we almost certainly know it will — then what happens to McNulty?

Motherf–k.

Some other thoughts on “Old Cases”:

-”Who uses pagers anymore?” As I’ve mentioned, this season’s arc was inspired by work Ed Burns did on several drug crews in the ’80s, and so we get the Barksdales using outmoded technology. (Possibly purchased from Dennis the Beeper King on “30 Rock”?) But because the cops comment on this, it works, and because Lester points out the counter-surveillance advantages of pagers versus cell phones, it makes Avon, Stringer and company seem that much more impressive.

-The show’s visual style, as laid down by Clark Johnson and Bob Colesberry, rarely called attention to itself, but there are a couple of stand-out images in this one. The most obvious is Bodie throwing rocks at the stationary surveillance camera in the Pit, which would become a memorable part of the opening titles for years to come, but there’s also the transition between the dirty water in the mop bucket Bodie used for his escape to the coffee in Herc’s cup as he and Carver drive down to juvie to scare him. Also, there’s a nice moment at the end of D’Angelo telling the story of Diedre Kresson’s murder when the camera takes a skyward view of the Pit, then pans over to the more prosperous skyline of downtown Baltimore, illustrating Bubbs’ “heaven and here” remark.

-Note that, at the gym, Stringer (despite his clothes) isn’t really there to play basketball but to talk shop, and the one thing we see him do on the court is to set up Avon for an alley-oop dunk, as befits his role as Avon’s number two.

-We get another of the show’s small handful of “Homicide” alums as Callie Thorne makes her first appearance as Elena. I never much liked her on “Homicide,” but I think that was more a matter of her character, Det. Ballard, being poorly-conceived than anything to do with Thorne. She’s fine here as the woman who has to play the bad guy because Jimmy’s too busy playing Peter Pan.

-After exploding on the scene last week with his hijack of the Pit stash, Omar becomes a much more unusual and interesting character this week. We find out not only about his brother No-Heart Anthony, but that he fancies himself a bit of a ghetto Robin Hood, doling out free dope to the truly wretched cases. And we find out that, to the horror of Avon — who immediately ups his bounty upon hearing the news — Omar is openly, proudly, defiantly gay, and that his young partner Brandon is also his lover.

-The reveal of Omar’s sexuality comes in the same episode where we get our first extended look at Kima’s relationship with upwardly-mobile girlfriend Cheryl. It’s interesting how being gay is viewed in the two different worlds. Omar is reviled for it — even his other partner, Bailey, tries to make himself scarce as soon as Omar and Brandon get affectionate — while Kima is able to thrive professionally, even though she has to deal with the usual innuendo (and occasional insults) from the likes of Herc and Carver. But the decision to include two prominent gay characters, neither of them defined solely by their sexuality, is part of the series’ commitment to showing a panorama of modern American life, even if it’s through the lens of a show about cops and dope dealers in West Baltimore.

-The detail loses a body, albeit a useless one, when Pat Mahon (not Mahone, as I’d been previously spelling it) takes advantage of Bodie’s assault to take a disability pension. Augie Polk, too scared (or smart, depending on your POV) to take Pat’s advice about throwing himself down the steps to the detail office, is still on the job, but at the moment he, the mysterious disappearing Santangelo and word jumble-solving Prez seem to be neck-and-neck for title of biggest hump on the detail. Herc and Carver may be stupid, but at least they went along with Kima’s plan to prove they couldn’t follow D’Angelo.

-Is it wrong that I was as charmed as Rawls by Landsman’s masturbation story? Delaney Williams makes Jay’s utter lack of shame seem like an admirable trait.

-I should, I suppose, mention the pre-credits scene with the desk wedged into the door. But even though it’s very funny — particularly if you watch it knowing that Lester’s smarter than these other guys put together, and therefore knows what’s wrong — and a commentary on inefficient bureaucracy, the scene kind of speaks for itself, no?

Up next Friday: “The Pager,” in which the detail puts Jimmy’s plan into action, while Wallace and Poot go to the arcade.

What did everybody else think?

The Wire is one of the not very good rated TV shows in TV history. It comes under good rated and series finale of this good rated series was also good rated. Okay, don’t you think what do I mean by good-rated (it’s my way to evaluate any episode). Good rated means 8 out of 10. Well rated means 9 out of 10 and best rated means yeah 10 out 10 and sometimes 11 out of 10, but very rarely. Ha ha

Let’s back to our main point from where we initiated. On this episode, Carcetti reacts on a damaging report presented by Pearlman and Daniels. Their choices are either to clean up the good deal or hide the dirt. McNulty asks Landsman to pull police off the homeless case as he wants to put the case to an end. Haynes finds little support for his concerns about reporters work from the bosses. Dukie is looking for an old mentor to take a loan. A cat and mouse game is going on between Levy and Pearlman. So, this was the story on series finale.

Now, tell me was not it a depressing end? No, it was not. In fact, series finale did the best it was planned for and I am satisfied with the way series finished. My pick from this finale episode:-

Bunk: How are you not in jail!
McNulty: I don’t know. The lies so big people can’t live with it I guess.

The wire, really an extraordinary series and the characters, plots and themes and everything was so strong and attracting. So, I am attracted towards its beauty……..